


Yesterday to Tomorrow

by BoyfriendJacket



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-Series, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyfriendJacket/pseuds/BoyfriendJacket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I wrote this little thing, my second fic, eight years ago, before the release of Deathly Hallows, but after The Halfblood Prince.<i></i></i>  </p>
<p>Harry and Draco meet again, five years after the final war against the Dark Lord.<br/>So many terrible things had happened during the War, so many friends lost, so many people changed. All grudges were left behind after a succession of funerals and trials. They had moved on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Meeting

The pub was stuffy and crowded. Smoke swirled over the heads of the costumers, all of them blurry silhouettes in the haze, dimly lit by a few yellow lamps hanging from the ceiling.  
No one paid attention to the dark-haired man sitting at the bar, drinking in silence and trying to make out the lyrics of the old song droning now from the speakers.  
He had never felt quite connected with muggle music. He never really understood any music at all. It always felt like it was background, never the centre of the scene, just something else to add to the atmosphere, like a vase or flowery wallpaper. He supposed some songs had a meaning, of course, but he had never taken the time to process the voices and what they were saying, and someti-

“Fancy seeing you here, Scarhead.” The voice was very close to his right ear, drawling and familiar.

“Malfoy. Always a pleasure,” he greeted, watching as the tall young man sat on the next stool.

“I’d never expected to find you in a place like this, Potter. You surprise me once again.” 

“Why not? I like the ambience.” Draco looked around.

“I don’t see you trying to catch one.” Harry looked blankly at him. “I mean, you’re not over there, doing business. There are a few nice ladies who would gladly follow your wallet.” 

Harry snorted. “I’d never pay for sex, Malfoy. I just like to sit here, have a drink or two and go home. This is quiet enough and dark and—“

“Sordid. Yes, I understand perfectly, Potter. You need a bit of sordidness every now and then ... you more than anyone...”

Harry fixed his stare on his glass, guessing what was coming. 

“I mean, after all that action, it must get pretty boring.”

“Is that why you come here, then? Looking for some action? Go get a whore, then. I’m sure you can afford them.”

“That’s not what I meant, and they’re not my type. Please, Potter, do you honestly think I would ever touch a woman like these?” He arranged his elbows on the edge of the bar. “I come here because nobody knows me.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, as Harry emptied his glass, Draco looked up, with a small smile.

“Let me buy you another. What are you drinking?” he said, gesturing to the barman.

“No, thanks, I’d better go”, said Harry, one foot already on the floor. Then Draco reached out and grabbed his forearm, suddenly stern.

“Seriously, Harry. Have a drink with me. I owe you a lot more than that, but I have to start somewhere, don’t you think?” He didn’t let go. 

Something in his urgency resonated with Harry. Perhaps he needed some company too. “Alright. Um, scotch for me, please.”  
Malfoy ordered scotch for Harry and vodka for himself.

“So, have you seen anybody lately?” he knew that Draco didn’t have any contact with their world, though he had been seen in Diagon Alley occasionally.

“No. I still get the Prophet, though, just to keep in touch. I read about Weasley. They finally did it, eh?” he sipped his vodka, making a face at the burn.

“Yeah. They’re still on their honeymoon”

“I bet she comes back pregnant. Scary thought, that. You know, mass-production of smart-ass redheads, all with bushy hair and freckles.” Harry had to laugh at that. Draco chuckled.

“Who else got married? Was it Longbottom?”

“Dean. Dean Thomas. Luna too. And Neville, yes.”

“So you’ve been busy attending weddings, eh? How distressing, all the presents you had to get. Too bad no one elopes anymore, it’s cheaper and it’s supposed to be so romantic...”

Harry laughed again. Must be the drink. 

“What have you been doing, Draco? I didn’t hear from you again after the fun—“ he trailed away.

“Oh, you know... this and that...” Harry looked curiously at him. 

“I have a book shop”, he said, looking sideways at Harry with a slow, expectant smile. It was obvious he had been dying to break the news and see his reaction. Harry complied by gaping at him.

“You do? Really?”

“Indeed. ‘The Aleph’. I’m doing pretty well, I have employees and all... can you imagine? Me, dealing with muggle employees? I have to keep from hexing them every ten minutes, but I’m getting used to them.”

“Somehow... sorry, I can’t imagine you behind a counter.” The idea was amusing, as he had an abrupt mental picture of Malfoy wrapping a children’s book in colourful paper. He snorted and Draco laughed.

“Yes, odd, isn’t it? I suppose there’s nothing else I want to do.” He took a long drink. “Well, there is... anyway, I’ve always loved books. They’re also dead useful, you know,” he added, mocking gently.

“Right,” said Harry, remembering Snape, bezoars and blood spurting from a boy’s chest.  
He took a swig, gulping down half the contents of his glass, the alcohol burning its way through his throat and his memories.  
Malfoy seemed oblivious of the effect his off-hand comment had and carried on.

“What about you?” I read that you were travelling.”

“Yeah. I’ve been nearly everywhere...” 

“... And yet, the world is not enough.” Malfoy said solemnly, his grey eyes piercing through Harry, who refused to answer and drank some more, avoiding his gaze. Malfoy leaned forwards and said, in a low voice:

“What are you looking for, Potter? Five years around the world, adventures at every shore, but you come back more bitter and sullen than ever?”

Harry was uncomfortably aware of their closeness, feeling trapped under Draco’s scrutinizing stare. He also knew that if there was one soul on earth who would understand him, it was Malfoy. But it was too soon, and he had drank too much. He had to be careful who he shared his frustrations with. 

“I don’t know, honestly, I don’t know.”

But he did. Everybody, even Draco in his own way, had moved on, leaving the dark times behind. They buried their victims, grieved them, and then went on with life. And it was all right, for people not to sink in despair for what horrors they had been subjected to.  
Except Harry had not found a place to be since then. Ginny had met someone new and parted ways with him.  
Harry felt oddly out of place. It was an ever-present feeling, clinging to the back of his mind, reminding him that he had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. It filled him with such a strong sense of dread that sometimes he was overwhelmed, and when this happened (which was alarmingly often) he wanted nothing more than to curl up and die. So, he drank. And travelled a lot. Accumulating memories, doing little more than just existing.

The clink of Draco’s glass against the wooden bar shook him out of his gloomy reverie.

“Are you seeing anyone? The Weasley girl, perhaps?”

“No, she’s dating someone now... Why?” Malfoy shrugged.

“Nothing. Just wondering.” He waved for a refill in both glasses.

“What about you? I take it you didn’t marry Parkinson, after all... “

“No, that was just a phase. I’m a bit too... selective. Not to menion busy with the shop.”

Harry snorted, lighting a cigarette. “Selective, alright. You’re a bloody monk for all I know. We never saw you with anyone.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow, indignant.  
“Discretion is a virtue, Potter. I may not have been seen, but I’ve been around quite a lot. Back then, anyway.” He grimmaced again and, apparently having had enough cheap vodka for the night, he slammed the glass back on the bar. “This stuff is revolting. I’m about to be sick any minute now. How about this: why don’t you and I go to my flat for a real drink? I have good music too, not this crap they’re playing,” he said, scowling at the speakers. 

Harry considered him for a moment. The night had turned out well, despite his brief trip to Misery Land, and Malfoy was a good drinking partner. And he was too lonely to stay in the pub.

“OK.” he said, swaying a little after sitting there for so long. Draco looked surprised, as though he had not expected Harry to agree. Then he smiled.

“Let’s go, then. We can Apparate from the alley... or I could Side-along you, if you’re not up to it.”

“That would be better, I think,” said Harry. 

They left, taking a deep breath once they were outside. The moist night breeze was refreshing, and they could smell a storm approaching. It would be nice, he thought, to spend the night in company for a change, listening to the rain; drinking and chatting like normal people do on a Saturday night.  
He fastened his coat and followed Draco, who was already stepping into the dark alley.

“Come here,” he said, and when Harry came within reach, he held him close, both arms around his waist. Harry looked at him warily.”This way is safer. Wouldn’t do to have the Great Harry Potter splinched in a God-forsaken street, would it?”

He smiled and Harry smiled back. Draco took a deep breath, stepped back and they were gone into the night.


	2. Later that Evening

They Apparated right outside Draco's flat. Harry took a moment to steady himself, then he let go of Malfoy coat. Malfoy lowered his hands after a second's hesitation, then drew his wand and lifted the wards.

"Come in," he said, opening the door and stepping inside.

Harry followed, feeling a bit dizzy. Maybe Apparating had not been such a good idea. He stood by the door and looked around. 

It was a nice place, warm and quiet. They were in the living room, furnished with cozy-looking couches, a small coffee table, and a fireplace on the wall to his right. The next wall was almost completely taken up by a large window that gave a wonderful view of the city, its lights blurry and strange as large droplets slid down the glass.

"There's no need to hover, Potter. Take a seat before you fall on your face," said Malfoy, heading for the wall opposite the fireplace. He touched the tip of his wand to a picture of Wiltshire. It split in half, revealing a minibar full of odd bottles and crystal glasses and goblets. He poured red wine in two glasses and went to put them on the coffee table.

Harry perched a bit stupidly on the edge of the largest couch, watching as Malfoy went to the fireplace. There was another picture on top of it, although not as big as the other, depicting hills somewhere in Scotland, stars like freckles of light on the black night sky. It was lovely and it reminded Harry of the mountains near Hogwarts. 

Malfoy touched it with his wand and muttered something. Instantly, music filled the air, making Harry jump. It didn't come from the picture itself, it came from all around the room.

"Nice," he said. Malfoy turned and sat next to Harry, facing the window and the rain outside. He picked the glasses and handed one to Harry.

"Cheers," he said, clinking the glasses. Harry hesitated.

"I think I had too much already... ", he muttered, as Malfoy waved him off dismissively.

"It's elf-made wine, Potter. No hangover, no headache, nothing. It will only relax you."

"If you say so..." said Harry and drank. It was slightly dry, but with a sweet tang that reminded him of raspberries.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking and enjoying the tap tap tap of rain against the window, mixing with the music.

"You have a nice place here. How long have you lived here?"

"About three years after the— the trial. All my heirlooms are here and in the bookshop." He sipped his glass with his gaze locked on the rain outside.

"How... how is your mother? Is she still in England?"

"No, she moved to France. She's happy there."

"I'm glad." There was nothing else to say. People had paid their dues and Narcissa's had been a high price. 

"Are you going away again any time soon, Potter?" he said, pouring himself another shot.

"Dunno. I was thinking I could settle here for a while... maybe rent a flat somewhere... " he trailed off, not knowing what to say next. He did not want to think about how uncertain he felt about everything, how empty his life was.

"You should try to write. It would be good closure, don't you think?" He was looking sideways at Harry, who chewed on his lip for a moment and said, shaking his head, "I'm not the writer type."

"Have you ever written anything other than crappy Potions essays? Because that's hardly a parametre to go by."

Harry snorted and considered the idea. It might be a good start, cathartic yet productive still in a wider sense.

"Would you sell my book then? If I gave it a try?"

"Me and everyone else! It would be the smash of the decade, even Muggles would love it," he said. Harry was surprised by this, he had intended the proposition as a joke, but Draco had taken it seriously. 

"Then I'll think about it," he said, leaning back.

They drank away, Draco explaining the principles of his "music is the closest Muggles will ever get to doing magic" theory; Harry telling him of the colourful wizarding world in Italy, Spain and Russia. He also told him about the beautiful autumn he spent in New York City, his summer watching whales in the Patagonia, his spring in Osaka, and a winter spent in a temple in India. 

There were also long moments of silence during which they sat back to watch the rain drawing sparkling labyrinths on the windows and felt the night (and life) ticking idly by.

Eventually, after the second bottle, Harry yawned. And again. And again. Malfoy chuckled.

"You're a sorry drinker, Potter."

"T's your bloody elven-made wine," he slurred.

"Haha, elf-made, you silly hobbit... and it's only supposed to relax you." Harry tried to glare at him but it was hard to focus.

"I think I'd better go back to the hotel," he said, getting to his feet awkwardly.

Malfoy, not nearly as drunk as Harry, surveyed him from beneath his fringe.

"You could stay here. This couch makes quite the comfortable bed."

"No, thanks. I’m expected somewhere else early in the morning." He pointed to the fireplace. "Are you connected to the Floo?"

"Yes." He flicked his wand and a small fire lit up. "Don't forget your cloak."

"Right," said Harry and Summonned it from the arm of couch. Malfoy watched him.

"We should do this again sometime."

"Definitely," he said, chewed on his lip for a second and added, "Next weekend?"

"Great. Same pub?"

"Yeah." He hesitated before he turned to Malfoy and said, "It was good to see you again." 

Malfoy smiled, then moved closer and shook his hand firmly, his hold lingering. "Yeah, I had a great time, Harry."

Harry blinked, not knowing what to do with the sudden familiarity. It was still a shock whenever it happened. Eventually he nodded, and turned back to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder as he stepped in.

"Mind your nose when you step out!"

"I will. See you next week."

His smile was the last thing Draco saw before he vanished in a haze of green flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you find any mistakes. This was betaed at the time but now I've made a few changes, and since English is my second language (and I'm nervous as hell) there might be some errors that slipped edition.


	3. Next Week

They met again as agreed, at the same pub, but the night ended after eleven, when one of Harry’s skull-cracking headaches forced him to go back to the hotel for his potion.

“You look terrible, Potter. You shouldn’t have come,” said Draco, helping Harry with his cloak and walking him outside.

“I know. I just forgot to take it today, that’s all...”

“Want me to go with you? I wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s OK, really. No need to ruin your night too.” They stopped at the alley. Harry braced himself, and gave Draco a sad smile. “I’m sorry. Um. I suppose this cancels my music lessons, eh?”

Draco shook his head. “Of course not. We’ll leave it for next weekend. Are you sure you can Apparate by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ve done it before like this... I’d better go... see you next Friday...”

“Right. Friday. Get some rest. And eat something.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and watched him Dissaparate. 

******************

Next Friday found Harry sitting at the bar half an hour before Draco arrived, looking disheveled and grumpy.

“Scotch. Double,” Draco barked at the barman. Then, to Harry: “Bloody Muggles.”

Harry grinned. “Bad day at the shop, was it?”

“How can anyone lose an entire stock of books?! It’s not like they’re keys or- or- umbrellas!”

“Is there a way to retrieve them?”

“Yeah, but… it’s time wasted and… meh, it’s just …” he shook his head, took his glass and clinked it with Harry’s.

“To the revival of Muggle-torturing techniques,” he toasted, and drank half the contents of his glass in one go.

“Oi!” said Harry, “Calm down or it’ll be my turn to take you home tonight.”

Draco gave him a sharp look. “You owe me that anyway.”

“Well, yes, but the Five Seasons is not nearly as comfortable as your flat. Not for your tastes.”

Draco watched him as Harry drank, and said nothing.

Harry was rather talkative that night and as oblivious as usual, so the long silences on Draco’s side went unnoticed.

“…and have they ever accomplished anything so far? Nothing at all, only death.”

And on he went, ranting about terrorism and politics. Eventually, he realised that his audience was too quiet to actually be awake.

“Um. Er. Sorry. Am I boring you too much? I know Muggle issues can be repetitive but -” 

“No, don’t worry. I’m just tired,” said Draco, forcing a smile. Harry drummed his fingers on the bar.

“Shall we call it a night then?” he could not help feeling a little disappointed. He had been waiting all week for this, his only social contact where he did not have to pretend he was happy.

“Not really. We could go to my flat. I have new music. And we could try a new wine my mum sent me.”

“Oh. OK. But I won’t drink too much this time,” he said, getting to his feet and fishing for his cigarette pack.

Draco smiled, for real this time. “Alright. Let’s go. Want me to Side-Along you?”

“No thanks, I’m fine tonight.”

They left the pub, out into the misty alley as a soft rain started, almost like the first time, but tonight there was something different, something brighter, a strange feeling of anticipation enveloping their footsteps, crawling between them where their shadows touched.


	4. Tonight

This time Harry sprawled on the couch at ease, while Draco brought the drinks and turned on the music.

“Here,” he said, passing the wine.

“Thanks. I’ve heard this voice before, I think. Is this the new music you mentioned?”

“Yes. I mean, no. This is a really old record, but I’ve just discovered them. Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” He leant back and closed his eyes. Draco gazed at him, then finished his drink with a long gulp and poured himself another fill.

“More wine?” 

“No, thanks.” He sighed contentedly and stretched his legs. Draco kept drinking, eyes fixedly on the window and the city beyond.

Over the next few minutes they just listened to the music and faraway thunder. The song ended and Harry sat up.

“Um. Call me stupid, but I’m not sure I understood that one.”

“It is a bit complex. Want to hear it again?”

“OK. What do you make of it? Is it about lovers or world peace?”

“A bit of both. Actually, the singer said it’s about a boy afraid of telling his father he’s gay.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.” The next song came along, but Draco ignored it, standing up and pacing slowly in front of the small fire.

“You have to let the words wrap around you, don’t try to force yourself on them. The song should take hold of you, not the other way round. Remember that music is freedom. You don’t own a song. You can write the lyrics and compose the melody, but the moment someone else hears it, it’s no longer yours, it belongs to them as well. That’s why you find different meanings in the same song. The lyrics suit yourself; you don’t have to manipulate them to fit your convenience. The meaning, the heart of the song is there: if your mind is open, and your soul is sensitive, the meaning will speak to you on its own.”

His speech ended along with the song. Harry was staring at him, enthralled. Malfoy had stopped pacing and was now standing in front of him, unmoving. He had been making wild gestures, hands flying, the soft light and his dark clothes made him look like a preacher. The effect was astonishing.

“You… seem very passionate about it,” said Harry. 

Draco ran a hand through his hair, oddly unsettled.

“Well… yeah. I’m new to this, you know. There’s a whole new world of feeling and beauty in music, I’d never been able to see it before…” he sat next to Harry. “Sorry I got so carried away. Did you understand any of that?”

“Definitely, yes. You’re very eloquent. Now I see what I’ve been missing all this time.”

Draco stopped in the process of lighting a cigarette and turned slowly to look at him.

“You do? And – and what do you think?”

“Oh, that I have lots to learn. I’m gonna need your advice on what to listen. And how.”

Draco went back to his cigarette task with a resigned expression.

“Right.”

“Actually… you know what? This is quite the inspiration. And your outburst was amazing. Can I include those theories in my book? I’d quote you, of course.”

Draco stared at him. “You are going to write?” Harry nodded. “And you want that in your book?”

“Yes. You suggested it. You can be my muse. A very grumpy and cynical muse, but yeah. Why not?”

“Oh. I’m – I’m flattered. Ah. Thank you.” Harry shrugged, smiling. Draco cleared his throat after a moment. 

“Er… I have another album. Mind if…?”

“Go ahead.” Harry lit a cigarette and blew a smoke column, following Draco’s movements through it as he tapped the picture again, muttering. Harry caught bits of several songs until Draco settled for one.

“Believe it or not, this is a love song. Are – are you in the mood for that? We could listen to something else, but it’s such a good –“

“Leave it, it’s OK,” said Harry grinning. He had been doing a lot of that lately. “It doesn’t hurt to get sappy every now and then, does it?”

Draco laughed, sitting again, now inches closer than before. “No, I suppose not. Pass the glass, if we’re going to get sappy, better have some alcohol in the system, eh?”

“Sure!” said Harry, while a guitar, bass and drums pounded around them. The voices were exhilarated.

“Wow. Kind of… makes you want to sing along, doesn’t he?”

Draco only smiled. Then Harry’s expression changed gradually as he paid attention to the lyrics. He sat there, staring into space until the song ended and another started.

“Something on your mind?” asked Draco, softly.

Harry leant back slowly. “It’s just so… accurate, so –“

“Close to home,” finished Draco quietly. “Yeah. The ultimate love tha everyone talks about. The one that’s supposed to save you… make you a better person…”

“Mmm…” said Harry, putting out his cigarette. He did not really want to admit it, but the lyrics had touched a sore nerve. They poked at the empty corners in his soul, waking up the craving for something real, something that would make him complete, and give a sense of worth to his life.

Try as he might to ignore it, he was aware that a big part, if not all, of his current misery was that he was so lonely, not only because his friends seemed so far away from him lately, but also because he did not have anyone special in his heart. He did not even have a home. No one at the centre of his thoughts. Perhaps that was why he forgot to take his potion every day, because most of the times he did not care. After all, pain was better than feeling nothing at all. And he did not have the need to look after himself, to be healthy and whole, because there was no one to share his days with.

He sat back with a sigh, and grabbed his glass. He felt very stupid. Alcohol usually made him dumb so he did not focus on his disastrous life. But tonight the music, the wine, and Draco’s company were making him too sensitive, emotions that he would rather ignore crawling to the surface. The only comforting thing at the moment was the warmth radiating from Draco, providing unspoken support.

“Have you ever felt it?” Distracted, Harry blinked several times until he grasped what was Draco talking about. 

“Oh. Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe I did. Once.” 

“And? What happened?” Harry shrugged.

“Didn’t work. Too much was going on and… we were too young anyway. I’m happy for her, though. She’s found someone better. Ginny.”

“Oh, please,” snorted Draco. “’Someone better’? Don’t give me that. If you were meant to be, which seems to be the whole concept of love, then she wouldn’t have moved on so easily after you.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t love?” 

“You may have loved her, but she didn’t love you enough. That’s not love. Not the real kind.”

“Or maybe she did and it stopped. All things die, sometimes love too.”

“Real, true love doesn’t. The big one stays with you forever,” he said stubbornly.

Harry squirmed, a bit miffed. “How come you know so much about it? Do you even know her?”

Draco slammed his glass on the table and took another cigarette. He looked annoyed.

“No. But I know you. And I know love. Had it been the real one, you would have fought with all your power not to let it die, to keep her by your side. You wouldn’t be here with me tonight. You would be at home, having dinner and watching her belly grow.”

A dead silence fell. Harry sat stock-still, as the words sank and the music surrounded them, all words of hope and love and a desire for more. There it was again, that passion in Draco’s voice, his eyes brighter and his hands shaking.

“OK,” he begun, slowly, “so you do know me. What about love? How is it that you learnt so much about it? Had a lot of girlfriends, Malfoy?”

“No. I don’t do girlfriends. It’s not – “

“Ha! So no girlfriends? Ever? So you base your experience on one-night stands? Come off it!“

“I don’t date women, Potter. And I don’t date in general. It feels fake. Like you’re pretending to be something you’re not just so you can shag. Not what I want and not what I need.”

Harry processed this for a moment, absorbing his words. He stopped momentarily to marvel at the fact that Malfoy was attracted to men and they had never noticed, then he moved on to pick at the last bit.

“You lost me there. Not what you need? What are you, carved from ice? And how would you know you’re in love if you don’t date people, don’t get to know them?”

Draco closed his eyes and pinched his nose. When he spoke it was in a soft voice.

“Being in love is ephemeral. Incidental. It goes away eventually. I want to love. It’s different. As for sex, for the sex only, it’s easier to just hook up with some random guy at the pub and make clear from the beginning that it’s a one-time thing.”

“But you will never find it if you don’t go out. On dates, I mean.”

“You don’t get it, do you?!” snapped Draco, impatiently. “I know love, I know where it is, which is precisely why I don’t date! And dates are obnoxious, trying to look perfect all the time just so people will like you … You’re never yourself on a date. Or are you faking now?”

“Of course not!” he paused, considering, missing the last comment entirely. “I guess you’re right, you do try to impress people on dates…”

“… and the best way to seduce somebody is to show them the real you, Potter, to show them you're worthy. You should know that.” He waited a heartbeat. “What do you think I’m doing right now?”


	5. Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! My computer died for a bit ;_;

Harry was completely blank for a few seconds while his brain poked about for bits and pieces of their recent encounters, revising it all, and then everything clicked into place. 

“Oh…” he said, and that was it. He could not utter a single word beyond that.

Draco let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. He started pacing again.

“And you’re so bloody oblivious! I tried to be subtle, to see if you caught on but…” he shook his head in mock defeat, while Harry regained his power of speech.

“Hints? What hints? How…? So you’ve been dragging me here all this time to-to seduce me? Wh-“

Draco cringed at this and interrupted him. “I haven’t been dragging you, don’t make it sound so dirty, like I lured you here to pervert you!” He picked his glass and chugged it down. Then he went to stand by the window, looking out.

The last song in the album was finishing. Its final words lingered in the silence between them.

“I knew you back then. I was there, Harry. We grew up together. I saw you fight. I knew what kind of man you would be.” He took a breath that sounded like a sigh. “All these years? I didn’t just read the Prophet; I talked to people, asked politely. I never lost track of you.”

Harry stood up slowly. Somewhere in the haze of his mind he knew he should be angry, outraged that Malfoy had been enquiring after him. He should feel like he did when members of the Order followed him without his consent. Instead he felt this intense curiosity, moving him out of his seat. He took a few steps towards Draco.

“When I saw you at the pub… I just wanted to see how you were now, after all that-that madness. I needed to know how much you’d changed and…” he sighed again, dropping his hands to his sides, “I figured it was time for you to see me. That’s why I asked you to stay that night.”

Harry kept his eyes fixed on Draco’s face but did not answer.

“See? That’s what I meant before… when you’re on a date you get self-conscious and hide things, trying to impress. I thought after a few drinks I’d work up the courage to tell you this, but…” he looked at Harry. The bare honesty in those grey eyes made Harry squirm inside, so he took the only way out he could think of.

“I’m sorry. I-“ he averted his eyes. “I’d better go.”

“Right. Run away, Potter. You’re getting quite good at it,” said Draco, with such a sudden sharpness in his voice that Harry turned around, firing up at once.

“And just what do you mean by that?”

They were face to face now.

“That you seem to be escaping from a lot of things lately,” he said, lifting his chin defiantly. “You never really had a reason for all those trips around the world, had you? They were just an excuse to get away from everybody, to hide yourself from the people who knew you.”

Harry stretched his fingers to keep from punching him. He ground his teeth for a moment, then said in the calmest voice he could muster:

“I don’t have to answer that. My life is hardly any of your business, Malfoy.”

“At least be honest with yourself then! And what life? You’re depending on a daily potion not to fall to pieces every night, for Go-“

“Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me all this? To question the way I live? We meet again for two weeks after five years, and you think you know me, think you have the right to crit-” Draco grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him squarely on the lips, angry and desperate. Harry simply froze, standing there as though made of wood.

It only lasted a few seconds; when Draco let go Harry blinked rapidly, several times, unmoving.  
The sudden silence was deafening after all that shouting. Draco was pink in the face, but he stood his ground, determined to put all his cards on the table.

“I like you. A lot. More than a lot. I want you.”

Harry went pale.

“And I hate to see what you’re doing to yourself.”

Harry still did not dare to move. Not even breathe. Something very strange was happening and he needed to examine it closely. He wished he had a moment alone, in silence and surrounded by complete darkness, to sort out his thoughts.

Draco was, apparently, waiting for a reaction. Harry blinked again and let out the breath he was holding, fixing his gaze on the bright lights of the city below.

Very slowly, he asked: “What exactly do you want?”

Malfoy seemed to chew on his thoughts for a moment.

“I want an opportunity. I know you’re not- I think you’re a bit lost. In the middle of a serious crisis. I think I can help you, give you something. If you let me.”

“…just like that? So you think you’re my-my saviour or something?”

“I’m lonely too.”

Several seconds ticked by and Harry could not stop the racing thoughts, tumbling one upon the other, making a mess, and not one of them making sense.

“I-I can’t…I-“ he swallowed, closed his eyes briefly, then started again. “I have to go. I’m sorry. I can’t have this conversation right now, I’m… it’s getting late…”

He turned, feeling his legs numb. He managed to get to the door; he could not possibly go by Floo in this state.

He looked back and saw that Malfoy was standing exactly where he had left him, looking sad and a lot younger than he really was. He was staring at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I- I’ll see you around. I’m sorry,” said Harry.

As he opened the door and left, quiet as a ghost, as the ghost he was becoming, he did not see Draco’s shaking hands, nor his eyes brimming with sheer defeat.


	6. Afterwards

Apparating like this was unthinkable, so Harry walked. Yes, he could have taken a taxi, but the idea of being in any sort of contact with another human being was out of the question, at least for the rest of the night.

The thing was, he felt rather flattered. After all, he had never, not once in his life, been approached by another man. He was mystified and shocked, perhaps a bit scared of his own feelings, but not completely freaked out by the idea.

In fact, the whole experience was having a most unusual effect, because now Harry was beginning to feel the first stabs of excitement. It all had the taste of unexpectedness, of a door ajar, the shadow of adventure dropping crumbs for him to follow.

That was it. He was thinking of it as "adventure" instead of "terribly awkward situation". Adventure was something he could deal with. A weird, life-changing one, but he had had those before and had always come out successful in the end.

Harry mulled over this for half an hour, and finally arrived at the hotel. He went in and up to his room. He decided he would raid the bar and then sleep until the bed kicked him off.

"I'm not evading," he said to himself, taking off his sodden shoes, "I just need a bit of quiet." Sitting in the dark for a while.

This, of course, was a good idea, for from darkness comes light, and when Harry woke up several hours later, he knew what to do.

***********

It was a cool Saturday afternoon, there was a pleasant breeze, though you could smell an approaching storm.

Harry checked himself in the mirror of his bedroom. He had not taken a close look at his own face for a long time, so it was a bitter disappointment meeting the once bright-green eyes now dull and sad beneath his black hair, messier than ever. Even his complexion had changed, he had lost the glow of youth, so characteristic of a healthy twenty-something, giving his skin a grey tinge.

"And he wants this?", he wondered. He could not see anything remotely attractive on the man in the mirror. And yet, Draco had been persistent and relentless, at least until last night. It was time for Harry to confront him and see, he thought while smoothing his suit and walking out. After all, he had nothing to do today. 

***********

'The Aleph' was almost impossible to find if you were not paying attention. It smelled of paper, wood and a foreign scent that reminded Harry of Draco's flat. A very short young woman appeared at his elbow, looking nervous.

"Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?"

"Er... I would like to see the owner? I'm an old friend and..."

"Oh! Yes, sir. Just a moment." She went to the back of the shop, knocked on a door and entered. Seconds later she came back to Harry, squeezing her hands together.

"Mr... he will see you, sir. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked inside the small office. Malfoy was sitting behind a large desk, facing the door.

"Hi," said Harry. 

"Potter. Hi. What are you doing here?" to Harry's relief, he sounded more curious than annoyed, if a bit tense.

"Well, I've never seen you working so..." he said, grinning. Malfoy seemed to relax a fraction.

"Sit down. Um, can I offer you a drink?"

"Your secretary is bringing me some tea, thanks."

"Oh dear. I suggest you put a cooling charm on it then," he said while the woman came in and put a cup of tea before Harry.

"Sylvia, we need to discuss something, so please don't disturb us, OK? I'm not here, understood?"

Sylvia nodded anxiously and said "Yes, sir."

There were several minutes of uncomfortable silence while they studied each other carefully. Then Harry took a sip of tea and nearly scalded his tongue.

"I warned you," said Draco, smiling lightly at Harry's grimace.

"Yes, well...I'll never learn." He put the cup back on the desk and steeled himself. "Listen, Draco – " he started, but Malfoy interrupted him.

"If this is about last night, then stop right there. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Harry stared at him. Malfoy was pink and avoiding his eyes.

"I got... carried away. I drank too much, and everything was – well, I'm sorry. I shouldn't – "

"But you were right," said Harry, effectively cutting Draco's ramblings. He toyed with his teaspoon. "I've been thinking about what you said. What you said about my life."

"That was rude of me. And uncalled for. I didn't – "

"No, it's true. I know. It's just that I've had it in mind, but never... hearing it from somebody else was... you know. You kind of… slapped me awake."

"Oh,"said Draco, hesitantly. 

"And – and I thought I should drop by and tell you that I'm not mad at you or anything."

"Um. Well. Thanks?" Harry smiled. Malfoy seemed to be on tenterhooks. It was fun to unsettle him for a change.

"So, er... have you got any plans for tonight? I mean... we could talk about this somewhere else..." Draco lifted an eyebrow. "After all, this is your office and..."

He trailed away. Draco was eyeing him warily, as though Harry could lash out if he said the wrong thing.

"Well," he said eventually, licking his lips, "we could go to m – the pub and decide from there. And we can pester the barman about his taste in music."

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Let's do that." He stood and smoothed his jacket, noticing how Draco’s eyes followed his fingers and then looked away. "So I'll let you work. See you tonight."

"See you," said Draco, forcing a smile. With one last nod, Harry left, leaving Draco completely puzzled and staring at the door.


	7. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the kudos and the lovely comments, they mean the world to me. I hope you enjoyed this little story.  
> Title and overall idea from this song http://youtu.be/hBrOp-LHbrs

When Draco arrived at the pub Harry was waiting for him outside, leaning against a wall and blowing a thin smoke column.   
“Hi,” said Draco, watching him carefully. 

“Hi,” greeted Harry, throwing his cigarette away. “It’s a bit too crowded in there tonight, so I thought we could…dunno, take a walk or something?” 

Draco shrugged. “Alright. That would be nice.” 

So they started at slow pace, as if they were in broad daylight instead of a gloomy night. 

“Of course,” said Harry, as they passed the dark alley, so familiar now, ”we may need a drink or two, but that’s…” 

“…easy to solve,” finished Draco, smiling. 

The storm that had been threatening the city all day was now upon them, and they could smell it on the breeze, which was flapping their coats and blowing Harry’s fringe out of his forehead. 

They stopped for a moment, waiting for the traffic lights to change, and Draco found himself gazing at Harry. His scar seemed to glow under the green lights. 

“I’ve been thinking, Draco…” said Harry as they crossed, “…about what you said. Last night.” 

“Harry…” 

“Please. Let me finish.” Draco was so uncomfortable it was almost tangible. “You said you see ‘what I’m doing to myself’, and that you want to help me.” 

Draco was itching to say something, but let him continue without interruption.

“…and I see your point. I… admit I have neglected myself a bit.”

He took a deep breath, bracing himself.

“The thing is, Draco,” he said, coming to a halt and turning to face him, “I don’t understand why you would want to do that. I have changed a lot, just like you.” 

Draco made to speak, but Harry held up a hand and carried on. 

“You may have been attracted to me before,” he continued, despite the furious blush that crept up his neck, “but that’s in the past. You think you know me, but I’m not a face in the Prophet anymore. I’m not that hero.” 

“I know,” said Draco, quickly taking advantage of Harry’s brief pause. “And I’ve changed too… you know that, Harry…”

Harry knew. The war had shown people’s true colours, and it had shattered their view of the world. All of them had changed, for better or worse, after that. Some of them bloomed in the new world, some of them shrank in shadow. Draco had become softer, a little kinder, having seen the truth of his beliefs crumble under the weight of reality and making the most of this new opportunity to grow, to become a better man.   
He felt a surge of fondness for Draco, the same he felt for all his friends and every other person who had fought and bled during those fateful two years. 

He nodded slowly, encouraging him to go on.   
“But the you I’ve – the you I know, your essence, Harry, it’s still there. You’re just darker and sadder now. I can see…” He stepped closer. “You’re unhappy. And so am I.” 

They were standing so close now, merely inches apart. 

“We could help each other out, you see?” he said, raising a hand and giving Harry’s cheek a soft touch. Harry closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the contact.   
When he opened them again, a fork of lightning crossed the sky, giving the grey eyes before him a sudden brightness. Draco whispered then, barely audible in the growl of thunder that followed. 

“What do you have to lose, Harry?” For a moment, Harry hesitated. Then he felt the words flowing from his mouth. 

“Show me what’s there to win,” he said, and grabbed his hand, “but first let’s go somewhere warm. Where we can speak freely. Shall we?” 

And pointedly ignoring the amazed look on Draco’s face, he stepped back and they vanished, just as the first drops started to fall. 

************ 

Draco blinked and looked around. They were right outside his flat. He lifted the wards and walked in, swaying a little after the sudden Apparition. 

Harry followed, taking off his cloak as he went, saying “There’s an anti-Apparition ward at the Five Seasons, the next point is two streets away so…”

“It’s OK, I was going to suggest we come here…” he wriggled his hands for a second, the he decided to play safe for a moment. “Wine? I have some left from…” he mumbled away as he made himself busy pouring two glasses. 

He was rather surprised at Harry’s apparent resolve. Seeing him so determined to try certainly gave him a new perspective. 

He offered one glass to Harry, who was examining the music painting.   
“Toast?” he asked, lifting his glass.   
Harry examined his glass very intently before answering, with a slow smile, “To adventure.”   
“To adventure, then,” said Draco, smiling in return. 

They drank quietly. Then Draco turned and left his glass on the coffee table. Inevitability washed over Harry and he embraced it, allowing Draco to take his glass and put it away. 

Draco looked up, and came closer. He felt nervous. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

Harry seemed a bit taken aback. “I… I thought you wanted this…”, he said, green eyes suddenly suspicious. 

“Of course I do! It’s just… just don’t run away again, Harry.” 

“I won’t. I need to… I want to try. I won’t run away.” He had come this far. And he was tired of walking away.

Draco touched his cheek again, like he had done in the street. “Scared, are you?” 

“A bit, yeah…” said Harry, unconsciously holding his breath. 

“Don’t be,” whispered Draco, and kissed him. 

It was more a tentative caress, smoke and sweet wine mingling in one shared breath.   
After a moment they broke apart. Harry fixed his stare on Draco’s ice grey eyes, feeling a slow force pulling him from the middle of his chest. Following that impulse, he grabbed Draco’s face with both hands and kissed him, for real this time, searching and finding, giving and taking, and finally pulling away with a look on his face that said, clearly, that he was not going anywhere. 

Draco blinked in surprise for just a second, processing Harry’s boldness. Then, as though afraid Harry might change his mind, he kissed him again, pulling him to the middle of the room.

They kissed for long minutes there, slowly lighting the fire, caressing and holding eachother like something precious and new, both following a path towards the bedroom, as the rain poured incessantly against the windows. 

************   
Harry woke up to the sound of rain and to something warm stuck against his right side. He turned and bumped Draco’s nose with his own. They giggled quietly for a moment, but the giggles soon died down as they locked eyes in the feeble light coming through the window.

They drifted away in the pleasant silence, both feeling comfortable, relaxed and complete. It was the best Harry had felt in years. Playing with a short blond lock, he considered the last two weeks and how he had never imagined he would be feeling so satisfied in every way.

It was, he thought as Draco snuggled closer, all because of this man. He would have to learn, of course –there had been a moment when he felt awkward and stupid, but Draco had made him feel comfortable, giving him his confidence back. So yes, the sex was a new experience, but he had time and was willing to learn.

As for the rest… who knew? Draco was elegant and quick-minded, with a dark shade that the past had left him with, but all of that made him what Harry needed: someone alike, able to see Harry without barriers. 

With this in mind, Harry held Draco more closely, trying not to wake him. He realised how many possibilities they had that he had never thought he would ever have with anyone.

They had the past, which was something to share; and the future, something to build on. The present was what they had today, and what they would have tomorrow: soft touches and passionate kisses, skin on skin and a quiet afterglow in the pale light of a stormy day. 

Time was theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading!


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